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First and foremost I would like to apologize for even matching with you on Hinge. I saw that your bio read “Hipster. Feminist. Vegetarian. Not looking to hook up. Fluent in sarcasm,” and I knew I should have stayed away. I am quite possibly the last person on the planet that you should have gone on a date with. I have an aversion to craft beers and condescending attitudes, both of which are huge parts of the hipster lifestyle. I eat meat for literally every meal, I am looking to hook up, and I know by now that “fluent in sarcasm” really just means “unoriginal and bitchy.” However, in spite of all that, I decided to swipe right, match with you, and after a few flirty text messages, invite you out for drinks. Maybe it was because I like a challenge. Maybe it was because I wanted to test my theory that hipsters stop being hipsters once they’re naked. Maybe it was because you’ve got a great rack. Either way, this date should not have occurred.
Secondly, I would like to apologize for going through with the date, despite how I felt on Friday. I let a happy hour get away from me on Thursday, and I was a cranky hungover mess all Friday. All I wanted to do after work was go home, get in my comfiest sweats, and continue the deep binge of Friday Night Lights I’ve been on. However, I decided that I was going to power through this date, despite my excitement level being somewhere around that of a pledge that’s been told he’s “meeting the alumni tonight,” and for that I am sorry. I would also like to apologize for the bar I took us to. I had heard good things about the place, and thought it put off a hipster/dive vibe that you would enjoy. It was my fault for not realizing that while most of the time this is true, on game nights it was a frenzied sports bar, and it was filled with jersey-clad fans drinking away their sorrows as their team was spanked like a disobedient stepchild. I suppose I should also apologize for trying to steer into the storm and ordering us shots (which I’m pretty sure contained cough syrup and Redbull) to try and embrace the bar culture.
As for the following hour-long train wreck of a date, I guess I should just start listing my apologies in an easy format to get through them all. In chronological order:
I am sorry I opened up with a joke about how much shorter you were than your pictures indicated. Standing at a whopping 5-foot-ten-inches, I can’t really talk, but I was surprised that the fact that you may or may not be a legal midget was not brought up at some point.
I am sorry for the many two-handed face swipes I performed throughout the date, but honestly, I was still pretty hungover from the night before and your detailed list of issues with society’s portrayal of women was a lot to take in.
I am sorry for laughing when you started talking about how your trip to Bali showed you “how happy people can be when money is not such a motivator like in our capitalistic society.” I genuinely thought that was a joke, although it is nice to know you weren’t dating me for my money (I’m making almost two Chipotles an hour, so I have be on the lookout for gold diggers).
I apologize for the three (five) times you caught me blatantly watching and/or cheering for the football game instead of paying attention to you explain the difference between two different types of punk rock which I can’t name because I honestly was not listening.
I’m sorry for ordering a plate of sliders to the table, but you had tried to lecture me about the positives of eating vegetarian twice already and I don’t think I could have handled a third. I did request half of them to be veggie for you, but strangely, the bar did not carry that option.
I apologize for getting into a fairly heated argument with you about how America is the greatest country in the world, but as you know, I can’t stand people hating on my country after living abroad for a semester.
I apologize for truthfully answering, “morbid curiosity and physical attraction” when you asked me why, since we were such different people, would I ask you on a date.
I am not sorry for the aggressive make out that occurred after I said that, it was probably the only moment of the date either of us enjoyed.
I am sorry for asking you if you wanted to come home with me. Although I was not surprised that your answer was “not a chance,” I am a firm believer that shooters must shoot.
Finally, I would like to apologize to myself for deleting your number immediately following the date instead of pursuing you again. That was a rash decision on my part as I am currently in the midst of a dry spell, and I have not forgiven myself for it. For in the words of Alfred Lord Tennyson, “’Tis is better to get laid with a girl you hate, than never to have get laid at all.” .